Not One of Us
by Sinkme
Summary: Song-fic "Not One of Us". Short exploration of a very different side of Snape after he took the Mark and leading up to when he agreed to spy. Darker-ish Snape. Kinda Manipulative Dumbledore.


Hi. I promise I'm working on More Than You Know. I have the mother of all writer's blocks and this helped a little even though it's not at all similar to the Snape that I'm writing in that story.

Obligatory song-fic with 'Not One of Us' from the Lion King 2 that a lot of Snape fans do. I'm jumping on the bandwagon. Go me.

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_Deception_

_Disgrace_

_Evil as plain as the scar on his face_

He couldn't even look in the mirror anymore. Ever since he took the damned Mark. It hadn't taken long for the glamour of the position to wear off. For the horror to take over. He imagined that this is what it felt like to finally grow up. All of your illusions ripped away to reveal the disturbing truth.

_Deception (An outrage!)_

_Disgrace (For shame!)_

_He asked for trouble the moment he came_

Potter and Black. In his weaker moments he could blame them for this. If they had left him alone then maybe his anger wouldn't have prevailed. But then his rational mind took over, as it often did, and he recognized that it would have happened either way. He'd always wanted power, craved recognition. Needed the burn of pride when others acknowledged him.

_Deception (An outrage!)_

_(He can't change his stripes)_

_Disgrace (For shame!)_

_(You know these Outsider types)_

_He asked for trouble the moment he came_

_(See you later, agitator!)_

He'd always been the one in the background. Smart but not intelligent enough for Ravenclaw. Good at Potions, but not good enough for the Slug Club. Slytherin but a Half-Blood. Never worth the effort from a professor to end the cruel pranks and nasty words. Never worth more time past what it took to demand help with an essay. Not good enough for Lily after one mistake made in anger.

_Deception (An outrage!)_

_(Just leave us alone!)_

_Disgrace (For shame!)_

_(Traitor, go back with your own!)_

_He asked for trouble the moment he came_

_(See you later, agitator!)_

It had been so easy to ignore all the rumors around Lord Voldemort and his followers when he had been approached to join. It had only been whispers at the time (_Killers. Murderers. Traitors. Death. Destruction. Power.) _Finally. He was wanted somewhere for his talents. Finally. He would be appreciated and acknowledged.

_Born in grief_

_Raised in hate_

_Helpless to defy his fate_

_Let him run_

_Let him live_

_But do not forget what we cannot forgive_

He should have known. When it came to his life, everything that was too good to be true always was. There was always a catch. Not that he really cared about the state of his soul. Not that he really cared that he'd stained his hands red. Not that he cared that those stains and scars would never come off. It was the screams. The deadened eyes. The hands that scratched and clawed for an end. The laughter from his _comrades _when the children screamed and their parents died. The punishments from his _lord_ when he had done nothing to deserve it. The burn of shame at kneeling at his feet.

_And he is not one of us_

_He has never been one of us_

_He is not part of us_

_Not our kind_

He'd been turning the idea over in his head for a while. It was getting hard to fake the blood lust. The blind faith in the Dark Lord. The thrill of a coming raid. He wasn't coward enough to kill himself yet, although he'd made two or three poisons that were relatively painless and very quick. He traced the outline of a vial in his pocket as his thoughts turned over. There was really only one option.

_Someone once lied to us_

_Now we're not so blind_

_For we knew he would do what he's done_

_And we know that he'll never be one of us_

He'd spent weeks carefully introducing the idea to the Dark Lord. The summer was fast closing and he knew by its end he'd finally be relieved of this farce. He'd admit everything. Divulge every fact and name and place he could. Let it be someone else's problem. Then he could rest. He touched the vial in his pocket once more and it gave him comfort. Promised him freedom.

_He is not one of us_

_Deception_

It had started so well. He'd given him everything. He ignored the disapproving face as he outlined every crime, every murder, every spell. The small frown when he listed names, relayed sources and exposed moles. Finally he was silent. He waited for the sentence. The pitying stare as he was told to wait there for the Aurors to take him to Azkaban. His hand fell to his pocket. Soon.

_Disgrace_

But it wasn't there. The vial was gone. His fist clenched when he saw it in the old man's hand. There was the pitying stare. He barely heard the words that came next. Meaningless contemplations of a self righteous man. Worthless platitudes of someone who could never understand the forces that had shaped him. But then the sentence came and he couldn't breathe.

_Deception_

He was no fool. He saw the offer for what it really was. It seemed like a choice but it wasn't. Ultimatum. He hated the word. Hated being backed into a corner. Manipulated. But he hated the thought of Azkaban more. Any of his old friends who met him there would kill him slowly and painfully. He'd never planned on walking away from this. He had planned on erasing the mistake his mother made when she gave him life.

_Disgrace_

Again, there was no choice. But he didn't want another manacle and chain. Didn't want to go back to the laughter and screams. It was his only chance at his only goal anymore. His only chance for freedom at the end of this.

_Deception_

He nodded his head once, sharply, and turned away. Did not look back. The word thudded with each step. Each breath. Each heartbeat.

_Spy._


End file.
